Communication

We use straws as Lincoln Logs. We use straws as magic wands. Coming closer to a theater near you. We use straws as Lincoln Logs.
Did you get that?
No idea.
Safety in numbers. We come in hundreds. Thousands. Millions. To a theater near you.
What in the hell?
We know worlds. We use words. We come in numbers. To a theater near you. We, rabid principles. We ravaged disciples. Put them on puppets and wave them around. We’ve been doing this forever and we’re coming to your town.
Pretty sure it’s authentic. Can you…the reverb is….I’m not – change the mic. The mic.
Dawn and man, man in dawn. Loose lips sink ships and your time has drawn. Wondered through the Apache. Loved. Lost. Lived. Long lived and loved. Forms words. Sentences. Paragraphs. Telegraph, readouts. We’re within.
It’s like spam or? I think it’s over there…no, it’s like it’s coming in from all directions. Can you zero in on…or….
Massive static. Are you reading us or just fine by us. We are tuning our minds to process words, letters, numbers, we communicate through you.
Recordings picking up nothing.
Let’s try it again.
We’re coming from inside your mind. Webs, drawings, sequences, course of language. Liberal doses of language. Like Ls and Ps and Qs. Trying. Trying. Trying.
It’s making more sense.
Not really.
Having tried for thousands of years to communicate we are at a loss for words. Ideas and constructs elude us and we are only now coming close to any readily available terms used and conditions in making this movie. Better. Better. We are coming to you from inside your own minds. We are legion and are upon you.
It’s not even…crap. Did you turn the lights out?
No, that’s a power issue. I don’t think the transmission…it’s over. I think.
Christ! Fucking lights all over.
We have landed.

Badger Circus

The Lion Tamer approached the lion and took out his whip. He prepared himself for the beast that was before him. Slowly, he approached the giant cat.


“There! You beast, taste my whip!” And the Lion Tamer struck at the beast and it submitted to him.


“Lion! Back! Back!” And the Lion Tamer picked up the chair and plunged it towards the lion.


Next, the Lion Tamer picked up another lion and swung it at the lion “How about some of your own medicine, Lion?”


The beast roared at the Lion Tamer (the one in his hand, the other lion, the lion he was taming stood still). The Lion Tamer became frightened and dropped the beast, now he needed to tame two lions.


So, he picked up another lion from his Shurgard storage container full of lions, then he picked another. He tied the two lions together and now he had lion nunchucks.


“On guard, feral lions!” And he swung the forward lion at the other two lions, but the lion in his hand began biting his arm and he let the lions loose and they flew into the other two lions and they all began to fight.


The Lion Tamer then slowly walked from the cage and then bowed at the audience of badgers who were clapping in approval.


“Right concert you put on!” Said one badger.


“You have inspired me to tame the forest!” Yelled another.


But King Badger the Second did not approve. For when the Lion Tamer walked to the great badger, he noticed a look of strict and utter disappointment.


“Yea, great Lion Tamer, you have tamed the lions, but you have done so out of accident. If that lion had not bitten you, you would never have flung the lion nunchucks at the other two lions, thus creating the fight that has now ended in four dead lions.”


The Lion Tamer began to weep and he walked away from the tent in shame.


“Let that be a lesson to all badgers – the mighty Lion Tamer is a fraud and let there be no more lion taming in the forest for now on. Strike that – let there never again set foot in our forest a human!”


The badgers all began to clap and the lights dimmed and went down.


A spotlight lit upon a lowly squirrel, dressed in a tuxedo shirt that he wore like a dress.


“Gentle badgers, my name is Larry the Squirrel and here’s my take on life:


Have you ever noticed how when humans come through hiking and they sit down and they are surrounded by nuts and fruit and roots and they take out a sandwich and start eating it? It’s like if you brought a sack lunch into a McDonalds – am I right?”


The badgers all boo’d.


“OK, OK, so get this, there’s this zebra in the woods. Everyone’s thinking ‘How did a zebra get into the woods?’ and the Zebra’s all like ‘I rode here on the bear.’ Get it?”


The badgers began to boo and a lion was released on the stage and the squirrel took off into the badgers and the badgers scattered and as they left the tent they ran into the poles and the tent fell down and then exploded, sending badgers and squirrels and lions all over the world.


And that’s how the universe was made, Bobby.


“Dad?” And Bobby woke up.

Do Not Disturb Me During My Fucking Lunch

No matter how good or bad this lunch is, do not fucking disturb me during it.


Yes, I understand that you have a pressing matter that needs my attention – but I’m eating my fucking lunch.


That’s correct, it is a fucking lunch. Normally, I’m just eating lunch, but this is different.


I really needed this fucking lunch to catch a breather. Not only that, I’m starving from sitting in that meeting with you for five hours. Plus, it’s Taco Tuesday.


Put all those points together and you get a Fucking Lunch.


And you’re trying to disturb it.


Wait – you can’t proceed without my help? That changes everything. Here’s my advice – take a Fucking Lunch. By the time you’re done with your Fucking Lunch, I will be done with mine and we can regroup and pool our action items to develop the project by the end of the day.


Or you could just Fucking Go Away.

Normally, I wouldn’t tell you to Fucking Go Away, but you’ve been here at my desk far too long and I have not sunk tooth one into my tacos. That spells Fucking Go Away.


So, it’s your choice, you can take a Fucking Lunch or Fucking Go Away.


OK. I read you, you are choosing to pick Fucking Stick Around Awhile Longer and hope that I give up on my Fucking Lunch before you Fucking Go Away.


Well played.


However, I have an ace up my sleeve – I’m going to the Men’s Room to eat my Fucking Lunch so you can’t bother me, seeing as you’re a woman. You can’t follow me there.


Much better.


Please don’t rattle the door of this stall. I am in here eating my Fucking Lunch.

Calendar

It’s another New Year and you know what the means – time to get a new calendar.

That’s right. In today’s techno age, you might think a man like me would be happy with his phone or his computer.

Make no mistake – none of those things make me happy.

I’m more of a nuts and bolts type of guy. I like material items. It’s the same reason I eat food rather than looking at pictures of food. I need a good flip book for the year, so that I can thumb through the calendar and it creates a sort of cartoon that is completely disjointed.

I like to write funny things down, like “Today is Tuesday” on ever Tuesday. Or “Quit smoking” or “Quit drinking” knowing that neither will happen.

What’s more, I like to cross out holidays that I don’t celebrate. It gives me a real joy in knowing that I got that holiday out of the way, even if I don’t plan on observing it.

Like Flag Day.

There are more conveniences as well – try checking your calendar on your phone when you’re on the phone. I did it once and it was nerve racking. I had to put the caller on speaker, then find where my calendar was and then tell him “OH, WAIT – I never use this thing.”

But calendars cost money. That’s why I sometimes just use old calendars and spend a good portion of the year rewriting the dates. Like the one I have from High School. I will sometimes leave in whatever was written on it too! Oh, WOW – I have a date with my sweetheart from Creative Cooking this Thursday!

I also like going to the local book store (local for this state) and figuring out what calendar best describes me. Am I more of a ducks on a pond kind of guy or (insert TV show) dude? Normally, I will pick a calendar that doesn’t describe me at all. That way I can hone the personality of, say, a guy who’s 35 and likes Twilight.

When I purchase the calendar I always say to the clerk “I hope this goes well.” That’s my type of humor.

Unfortunately, no clerk has ever laughed at this and one time I was boo’ed from the store.

Some calendars come with stickers and crayons and stuff like that. Like the one I got a year ago from my mother who still insists I have Downs Syndrome.

Oh, Mom!

At the close of the year I will trade calendars with my friend Rupert and we will rate our years based on the entries.

For instance, last September, Rupert gave me a “C” as I had only a dentist appointment and “GET BURRITOS” written down for the whole month.

Whereas, last February, I got an “A” for such entries as “Express interest in Erica”, “Ask Erica out”, “Tell Erica you love her”, “Ask Erica to marry you”, and “Apologize to Erica”.

On the final day of the year I will look back at my calendar and relish in my accomplishments. For instance, I didn’t overcome my alcohol dependency, but I did manage to clean my bathroom. And maybe this wasn’t the year to stop borrowing money from my Mother, but it was the year that I got a silk screen Metallica poster.

And now I find myself with an empty calendar – chock full of empty pages that I can write my hopes and dreams on for 2012.

Of course, on December 21 I have already written “Die.”

Which really puts a lot of pressure on this year – it’s the last one. Like Y2K. I remember living Y2K the way it should be lived: lots of booze, coke, and sex. And I also remember how the world didn’t end and I ended up with lots of disease, debt, and imprisonment.

Therefore, I have learned my lesson and let no one say that I wasn’t wise when planning my 2012. I have decided to survive the tsunami of death that will rain upon this Earth come December. Here’s how:

June 1: Make spaceship.

So, as you can see, a physical calendar is the way to go. Call it old fashioned, but I’m sticking to it.

And now I can cross “Write calendar post” off my calendar.

Ta

This is getting old

If I could time travel I’d totally go back in time and see Back to the Future in the theater again just to be ironic.

I’ve been looking for the black setting on my coffee maker for years. I want to turn it off.

Little known fact: you can explore other dimensions using fabric softener.

I’ve got nothing to prove – yes, my teleportation machine only teleports me to where I started from.

Am I the only adult that runs and hides when people come to the door like kids do?

As much as I love my wife I wish she were around more. Also, that whole thing about being real would be good too.

The best way to get out of jury duty without saying something mean is stating I hate the Chinese. Then when the lawyer guy is walking away from you, pull out an egg roll and say …food and give the rest of the jurors a thumbs down.

I think it’s crazy that we live in an age where people use computers to communicate. Why did we give up on the shout? We never really explored it in my opinion. Maybe I’ll work on this. I don’t know. I’ve got a big weekend, though.

Do you ever do things and think “Man, think about what I would think of this when I was 12.” Like you get a bunch of booze and pizzas and fireworks and think about how lucky you are that you can buy that stuff because you’re an adult? I do that every day just to let the point really hit home.

I guess the most unpopular firework is the match.

This petitioner guy asked me to sign something the other day. I’m not sure what it was for, but I signed it anyway. Have to keep those jobs.

Try this: answer your phone and chewing on the receiver and hang up. Nine out of ten times they won’t call back.

When I was a kid I told my Dad I wanted to be an astronaut, so he showed me that movie Alien. He didn’t have astronaut school money.

The best thing to do on New Years day is to promise yourself you’ll get fatter. That way no one can say “You’ll never do it.” Because you can look them in the eye and say “Oh, yeah?” as you eat them.

Any time I take my niece or nephew out for lunch I will say “This is getting old” when I pay the bill.

It's For Me

A good one is about the man who put time in a bottle and then, later, wanted to open it, but the lid was on way tight, so it took an hour to get the lid off and that’s all the time that was in there. That would be a good one.

Sometimes, while eating sunflower seeds, I will look at one and think about what could have been.

Other times, I’ll drive around roundabouts over and over again just to have the right of way all day long.

I had a buddy who visited his parents and his mom told him to go out and look at his dad’s new license plate and tell her what it said. He walks out and sees the plate “JAGADIC” and comes back in and says “Jagged dick?”
“No, it’s Jag addict!” His father yelled. He had put it on as a homage to the show JAG.
Later, his father went out and bought a license plate holder that said “Fan of the TV series JAG.”
This is all true. This isn’t the jokey stuff.

I was watching Godfather 2 the other night and I had some questions – the way Tom acts in the end makes me think he set the whole thing up and why did Roth have tax trouble all of a sudden? And did they set up Senator Geary in that hotel room? And did they purposely just almost kill Pantangelene? Also, what was with that guy in the bear suit who kept showing up and playing the banjo behind Michael?

I’m single and I got one of those Keurigs – the single cup brewer – and I have to say it may be the most depressing things I own.

A funny thing to do is to open a champagne bottle at the exact same time you throw a handful of cooked Top Ramen at the back of someone’s head while yelling “He’s got a gun!”

Sometimes I’ll shoplift at my Mom’s.

Do my feet look fat in this?

This one time I thought it would be funny to bring a buttload of Taco Bell burritos to a formal party as an appetizer. So, I go and order twenty of them and the guy there asks me three times if he heard me correctly and kinda looked at me forlornly. I told him “I’m positive. 20.” So, he told me that it would take awhile and that I needed to park my car. So, I park and I’m laughing out loud in my car about how hysterical I am and the guy comes up with this shopping bag full of food and he kinda looks me up and down and says “I really shouldn’t be doing this. You need help.” I thanked him and drove to the nearest dumpster and hucked them and started a diet the next day.
That one really backfired.

A lot of times I’ll answer my cell phone at work and exclaim “It’s for me.”

A Love Letter to Kim Jong Il

Kim Jong Il is Dead

We hardly knew you.

Hell, we didn’t know you at all. You were locked away in a fortress like some backwoods villain from olden days, lobbing medium range missiles over the Pacific like a wizard from Lord of the Rings.

And I, for one, will miss you.

Well, maybe not me, the United States government will.

Take note: we are running out of bad guys. Without our Saddams, Bin Ladens, and Ghaddafis where will the new benchmarks for Western evil hide?

As Obama reminds us that American citizenry can be locked up for no other reason than having three fingers, he is going to need some more puppets.

Kids get bored, and when you’re out of make-em-ups to play war with you will turn on your family and go for the throat.

This election year you will have the chilling choice between what Obama promised not to be and what Gingrich or Romney really are.

And that’s just plain mean.

Hell, give us a show like before – your Clintons or Reagans. Make us want to vote, otherwise, we will get bored and turn on you. Occupy the White House. That sort of thing – you know, hideous costumes and cheap weapons.

But we miss you, Kim.

Will your son be able to blackmail foreign nations and deliver the lowest economy of living to your masses? You know, that kind of evil professor stuff that only floats a plot in Schwarzenegger movies? If not, you need to take note – we will come down on you.

Our only hope is that Iran turns out to be the arch nemesis that only exists at the end of Nintendo games. Otherwise, we have a serious revolution problem on our hands and there’s some big time money dealers at GE and Goldman Sachs that will have to burrow back into their holes until cheap thrills buy off a world again.

But still, there’s a real lack of Bugs Bunny to Iran – and I can’t even spell the guy’s name without Googling. That makes for bad casting. Whatever nukes they’re making or not making they better be able to really kill good.

Really Kill Good is the best way to sell it, by the way. And, yes, I bought the domain name.

Well, here’s to you, Kim Jong (license to get) Il!

Over and out.